The thread that binds
by K12
Summary: In the house on Burnt Church Road there are three hearts, bruised but not yet broken. Will love provide the thread that binds them together and mends their open wounds? Chapter 2 now here.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: Ghost, Steve, Ann and any other characters mentioned here belong to Poppy Z Brite. No copyright infringement is intended.

RATING: R

AUTHOR: Cassie

TITLE: The thread that binds (Ch. 1)

SUMMARY: How would things have turned out if Ann had lived? This fic takes place the winter after "Lost Souls".

In the house on Burnt Church Road there are three hearts, bruised but not yet broken. Will love provide the thread that binds them together and mends their open wounds?

Winter in Missing Mile this year was bitterly cold. In the old house out on Burnt Church Road, Ghost shifted restlessly under a tangle of musty-rose-scented blankets, eyes wide open and staring at the painted stars on his ceiling. Nights like these were hard to sleep through. The wind outside rose up in violent gusts, throwing dead leaves and heavy drops of rain at the window panes. The masking tape Steve had placed over the hole in the glass crackled, its edges curling over with condensation. 

  Ghost shuddered, remembering how that hole had come about, punched out by the Slugger sailing through the air that fateful fall day when Nothing and the vampires had stepped into their lives. He knew Steve tried not to think of that day and the ones that followed it, when their world was spun upside down and the foundations of everything they believed in were shaken to the core. And for Ann, who'd moved in with them soon after returning from New Orleans, the events of the fall were so caught up in a confusing haze of bewitchment and fever, that she was unsure of what had really happened and what she'd only dreamed.  

   But Ghost remembered, as clearly as if it was yesterday. They'd come across something tangibly evil, something that was still out there in the world. And he, Ghost, couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't do anything about the evil he'd discovered they were all, everyone of them, intrinsically capable of. Because you couldn't draw an absolute line between good and evil and no one had the right to say what either consisted of exactly.  It was something he would have to learn to live with. Just like he'd have to learn to live with his love for Steve. 

  He sighed into the darkness. Steve loved him, he knew. But not the way Ghost wanted him to, not the way Ghost _needed him to. Those fall days in New Orleans had been an awakening for Ghost. A burning need, to feel Steve's arms around him, to feel his mouth against his, to feel his cock inside him, had sprung up in Ghost's heart. And it hadn't receded over the passing months. It was still there gnawing at the corners of his being, flaring up with agonising intensity on those nights when he crept into Steve's bed to hold him and chase the nightmares away. _

   Ghost closed his eyes at the familiar prickling of unshed tears. Holding Steve was not enough. Ghost wanted to get closer, somehow merge together so their hearts could be joined and neither would ever have to feel the bitter loneliness that tortured Ghost so this night. He choked down a sob rising like bile in his throat. Hot tears of frustration ran down his face and tangled in his pale hair. Ghost threw back the blankets to let the cold night air soothe his burning skin. He thought of how he'd often held Steve passed out and drunk in his arms, breathing in his familiar scent of beer and dirty hair, pressed up against the warm sweaty skin of his torso. Steve would drool into Ghost's hair and his sparse dark chest hairs would tickle Ghost's nose. And Ghost would lie there awake for hours, sleep evading him, just wishing Steve would open his eyes and roll on top of him. And then their mouths would join and everything Ghost achingly wished for would happen. But Steve would only mumble and twitch in his sleep and Ghost would have to gently pull away so Steve wouldn't wake up and feel his hard-on pressing against him, embarrassing them both.

   As Ghost lay in the thrall of these thoughts, his hand crept unbidden down his belly and gently started stoking his cock. He sobbed louder, as fear boiled up inside him. Fear that his feelings would never be reconciliated, or, worse still, that longing for Steve would eventually drive them apart. As his hand pumped faster, the void of loneliness and despair which Ghost saw opening up below him, gaped wider. 

  And then, the noise of his bedroom door being swung open made him jump out of his revelry, and he was momentarily blinded by the sudden invasion of light from the hallway. As his eyes adjusted, he saw it was Ann. He berated himself for being so wrapped up in self-pity that he'd failed to sense her presence until now, and then, realising the precariousness of his position, hastened to pull the blankets over his nakedness. But Ann had already taken in the scene and was halfway across the room before Ghost started to react. Reaching the bed, she stayed his hands, and bent down to brush his lips with the softest of kisses. "I heard you crying. What is it Ghost?"

  Since the fall, Ann had become gentler and quieter. Ghost sensed she blamed herself for a lot of what had happened, especially her father's death. When the pain got too much for her at night, he let her crawl into his bed, welcoming the warmth of her small body and the soothing caresses they exchanged. In those instances he almost forgot about his aching for Steve. Almost, but not quite. Ghost knew Ann still loved Steve, but she was afraid of him. She wouldn't let him touch her or share his bed. It drove Steve crazy, but Ghost knew he was prepared to wait. Seeing Ann stuck full of tubes in a hospital bed, her life nearly bled away, had been enough for Steve's self-professed hatred of her to crumble and unveil the love it had always masqueraded. 

  Ann trusted and loved Ghost, and that was enough to keep her with them. It was the reason she had sold Simon Bransby's house and come to live at Burnt Church Road and take up residence on their couch. And Ghost loved Ann, not with the same intensity with which he loved Steve, but it was love nonetheless. It was why he turned to her now in his misery and pulled her down on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around her and sobbing into her hair. Trivialities like nakedness were forgotten, and Ann embraced him back. "It's Steve isn't it?" Her hands, cool and soft, caressed Ghost's back. "Oh Ann," Ghost gasped "I love him so much, but it'll never, never…" Ann hushed him with another feather-light kiss. "He loves you too. He just doesn't realise how much yet. But it's there, Ghost. Everything you're feeling is there in Steve, just waiting to wake up." Ghost sniffed. "But what about you Ann?" he had to ask, though he was afraid of the answer. She sighed, shifting slightly in his arms. "I don't know anymore. I'm afraid to trust Steve again after- well, after what happened. But I know I love him. And I love you Ghost. And deep down I know everything's going to be okay." Ghost wasn't so sure, but he uncoiled slightly under Ann's touch, felt her warm tongue lick away his tears.

   "Let me comfort you tonight, Ghost," she whispered. Ghost, touched by her kindness, nodded and found her lips with his. Under Ann's guidance, he rolled over so she spooned against his back. Her arm snaked over his side and he sighed as her hand caressed his chest and belly. Her fingers drifted down and encircled his cock gently. Ghost felt his muscles unbunch, let himself be taken up by the rhythm of Ann's practised caresses. It felt so good, to unwind and let go under someone else's hands. And then he was coming, and Ann held him as he shook and trembled and whispered Steve's name.

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	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Ghost, Steve, Ann and any other characters mentioned here belong to Poppy Z Brite. No copyright infringement is intended.

RATING: R

AUTHOR: Cassie

TITLE: The thread that binds (Ch. 2)

SUMMARY: How would things have turned out if Ann had lived? This fic takes place the winter after "Lost Souls".

In the house on Burnt Church Road there are three hearts, bruised but not yet broken. Will love provide the thread that binds them together and mends their open wounds?

  Steve slid into the T-bird's driving seat and slammed the door, mentally crossing his fingers against the possibility of it falling away from the car's metal frame. One of these days for sure it would. _Piece of junk_, Steve thought affectionately. And yet he couldn't bring himself to part with it, not just yet. The T-bird held too many memories: fucking in the back with Ann, their bodies glistening with sweat; looking over at Ghost asleep in the passenger seat on a long night's drive, the presence of the pale form beside him enough to chase the fantasy of heading straight over the next cliff from his brain.

   The T-bird rolled on towards home, Steve musing at the wheel, his share of the night's takings from the Yew a satisfying wad in his pocket. God, but it'd be good to get home. The night had stretched out indefinitely, Kinsey allowing some of the regulars to linger at the bar seemingly forever. It was all very well shooting the shit with the guys, but after a while Steve longed to get back the house. Maybe open a few beers with Ghost and sit in companionable silence for a while, basking in the calm Ghost emanated. Often they didn't need words to share their thoughts. Ghost could read Steve like an open book, and over the years Steve had become pretty good at picking up on whatever churned around his friend's weird skull. 

  He didn't think he could survive without Ghost, without the magic Ghost brought into his life. Without the love he offered him, which surely, Steve felt, he'd done nothing to deserve. He wished he had the guts to give Ghost what he achingly wanted: a love where they layed out their souls to one another, naked and vulnerable, their most intimate of secrets bared to the open air. He loved Ghost, but he was scared of how much he already trusted him. Could he take the next step and not get broken?

  And then there was Ann. The first few weeks after returning from New Orleans, Steve had barely seen her. Then one afternoon at the end of November, he'd returned home from work to find her asleep in Ghost's arms on the couch. She'd looked worn and exhausted, as if she hadn't slept in days. She'd cut her red-gold hair and seemed so young with her shorn head lolling against Ghost's bony shoulder. They'd let her stay, and now that the Bransby's house was sold she didn't seem to be moving on anywhere fast. It killed Steve how evidently she didn't trust him. They hardly spoke, and if he happened to, say, brush against her as they passed in the hall, she'd recoil like a frightened little animal. Only when Ghost was in the room with them could they relax in eachother's company. 

 Steve gritted his teeth. If only none of this had ever happened. But it had and he guessed he had to carry on as best he could. He owed that much to both Ghost and Ann. If only he wasn't so fucking lonely…

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 Ghost woke to the sound of sobbing. Ann was sound asleep, her face serene and peaceful. Gently, so as not to wake her, Ghost slipped out of bed and pulled the blankets over her sleeping form. Feeling around blindly in the dark of his room, he located and pulled on a t-shirt and boxer shorts, then hurried to Steve's room.

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 His door opened and Steve heard footsteps cross the room. And then Ghost's arms were encircling his shaking body and Ghost's familiar warmth was pressed against him. Steve clung to his friend, face wet with tears. 

"They were killing you, Ghost. They were killing you and Ann. And I couldn't do a fucking thing to stop 'em. I…." sobs choked him and he couldn't go on. 

 "Shhhh. It's ok, Steve. It was only a dream." Ghost soothed, rubbing Steve's back through his thin cotton t-shirt. He didn't need to ask who "they" were. They visited his dreams too, but he was used to the presence of spirits, even malign ones. But, it was hard enough for Steve to admit to their existing, never mind being plagued by them in dreams. 

 In the dark, Steve's hands wet with tears found Ghost's face and caressed it. "Don't you ever leave me, Ghost." The whisper was barely audible, yet Ghost sensed the bitter fear behind it. His arms tightened round Steve's warm body.

"Never," he said.

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Ghost slowly opened his eyes and smiled up at Steve. He yawned and stretched, the movement causing his t-shirt to pull away from the waistband of his boxers. Steve caught a glimpse of pale skin sparsely covered with golden curling hairs. Without really thinking about it, he reached out a hand to see if those curls were as fine and silky as the hair on Ghost's head. When Steve's fingers brushed his belly, Ghost let out a small gasp, a faint shiver vibrating down his spine. Their eyes met and Steve swallowed hard when he saw the desire that had darkened and suffused Ghost's eyes.

 "Oh, Ghost…" Steve whispered. He pulled Ghost towards him and their mouths met in a tentative kiss. They pulled apart and Ghost's hands moved up to cradle Steve's face.

  The kiss this time was surer. Ghost's soft lips melted beneath Steve's, his mouth opened wider to allow access to Steve's tongue. Their tongues caressed eachother, exploring the secrets inside eachother's mouth. As Ghost's body cleaved towards his, Steve felt a rush of blood to his groin. He renewed the kissing with increased vigour, entwining his fingers in Ghost's hair and plundering his mouth with his tongue. 

  And then Steve felt it: Ghost hard against his leg. And he pulled back, unsure. What did this mean, kissing his best friend? If it came to it, could he fuck Ghost? God, he wanted to so bad, that was sure, but….. 

  Ghost sensed his hesitation and looked up, understanding painted all over his face. Yet Steve caught the flicker of anguish and disappointment. 

  "Ghost, man.." But he couldn't, not yet, maybe not ever. No matter how right it felt… And Steve stood up with sinking heart, and turned away.

  And there was Ann soaked in sunlight and standing in the doorway. Coming towards him. And, oh God, he must be dreaming, reaching up to kiss him. Her mouth pressed against his and he could feel her sharp little teeth gently biting his lower lip. Ann's kiss, so familiar, yet it was like kissing her for the first time. His stomach flipped and the arms that he embraced her with shook. When she pulled back to look up at him, it was all there in her eyes. Forgiveness and love that had never died in spite of all that had happened. The look they exchanged spoke more than words could have ever done. The weight on Steve's shoulders rose and drifted away. 

   She took his hand and turned him gently towards Ghost and whispered, "It's time." And he didn't hesitate. She forgave him and his heart felt whole again. Whole and strong enough to give to Ghost.

 Certain in the knowledge that this wouldn't break him, Steve took Ghost in his arms again.

"I love you, Ghost." And their mouths met. 

  The surroundings blurred. Outside noises, sights and smells faded away. Vaguely, Steve sensed Ann leaving the room. And then it was just this. This moment. These feelings that had gushed up inside him like a secret spring, flowing down his arms, across his fingertips, bathing the skin of the boy he was caressing. 

  This angel with eyes like the ocean. This witch child from a different world. Yet at the same time it was Ghost, his best friend, with tangled hair and a sour sweetness on his breath. Ghost whispering in his ear that he loved him.

  Limbs tangled and interlocked. Ghost's hands stroking him were clumsy with inexperience, yet Steve savoured each touch, gathered it up and locked it away to recall as a tantalising memory. 

  Clothes were pulled off and discarded. Ghost trembled under roaming hands and a mouth that licked, sucked and bit his skin as though it was the most delectable thing it had ever tasted. He gasped as Steve's tongue swirled over his nipple, whimpered when Steve's fingers gripped his hipbones bruisingly.

  Steve felt the thin body beneath him writhe as he teased it into ecstasy. _Oh Ghost, _he thought, _why didn't I see this sooner? How could it ever be wrong? Ghost's little pleasure noises, the way he arched up underneath Steve and struggled to reach his mouth to kiss him, it all felt so right, so familiar in some inexplicable way._

  Ghost was drowning in an ocean of feeling, tossing and turning with the current of bright-white energy that was Steve's skin against his. His thoughts were scattered, crashing into one another in a chaotic frenzy. Yet, he was not afraid: surfacing above the turmoil was the realisation that he was here with Steve, in this moment. His Steve. Grasping and pulling at his skin in desperation. Covering his mouth in frantic kisses. Ghost rode the tide of Steve's lust, great in its unleashing, and trembled in response.

  Strong hands stroked their way down Ghost's sides, fingers fluttering against sensitive skin, and Steve smiled to see him squirm. And then his hand was wrapping around, Oh God, around Ghost's cock, and Ghost's lips parted in a soft moan. Tentatively, Steve slid his hand up and down Ghost's length. He felt nervous again, freaked out a little by the feel of another man's dick in his hand. But then he looked up into those holy blue eyes, and all fear and doubt fled his thoughts.

  Ghost wrapped his limbs around the body lying on top of him. Steve could feel him mouthing words against his shoulder. "Hmm?" he pushed back to rest on his arms. Ghost's eyes were closed, long velvety eyelashes fluttering against his sharp cheekbones. His face was lightly flushed and coated in an iridescent glow. Eyes opened to meet Steve's, silently pleading. "Plea.." the word caught in his throat as Steve's grip tightened around his cock, making Ghost bite his lip. 

  Steve's fingers sliding between his legs, wet with spit. Probing him gently, stretching him open. The mingling pain and pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. _Too much, too much, his mind cried out. Somehow, he managed to stifle those thoughts, relax a little and succumb to his lover's touch. Those guitar-calloused fingers hurt at first, but then their slow thrusts found Ghost's sweet spot and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy._

  Steve watched Ghost's head fall back, felt Ghost's fingers dig into his ribs, his nails leaving red crescent moons that would linger for days. _So beautiful, _his thoughts whispered, _So__ perfect. My best friend, my only brother. This physical union felt so natural, so obvious. There was none of the awkwardness Steve had feared. It was simply the culmination of the love he and Ghost already shared._

"Oh Steve," Ghost's voice interrupted his reverie, "Now. Take me now." Steve lifted those long slender legs and rested them on his shoulders. Smiling down at Ghost, he wet his hand and rubbed it along the length of his cock. Ghost trembled as Steve slid into him. Despite the fact he was already stretched, Steve's cock inside him still came as a shock. His jaw clenched and he looked away to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. 

 But Steve's hand, large and warm, came up and cupped his face, forcing him to look at him. Dark brown eyes filled with worry. Soft lips caressing Ghost's face. "Ghost baby, do you want me to stop?" Ghost swallowed hard, shook his head. His body was adjusting quickly to the unfamiliar intrusion. Tentatively he rocked his hips up towards Steve's, gasping at a sudden surge of pleasure.

  Reassured by Ghost's smile and moans, Steve grasped those bony hips and thrust into him again and again. Tight velvet heat welcomed and engulfed him. He could feel sweat trickling between his shoulder blades and his hair fell forward over his face. He grasped Ghost's cock in one hand and began pumping it in time with his thrusts. 

And then it was upon them: the narrowing of their worlds into one bright point of light. Energy, electric and incandescent, flowing through them and between them, unifying and strengthening.

Through the curtain of Steve's sweaty hair two pairs of lips met. Two souls, adrift for a while, had come home.  


End file.
